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‘It is precisely that point over which Melusine and I fell out. He was engaged in detesting Manning and himself in almost equal measure. A chill ran through his frame, and, grasping the heavy weapon with which chance had provided him, prepared to strike down the first person who should enter the cell. It was Annabel’s. Why didn’t I die? Why does God hate me so? Why does He not want me? I didn’t die because I’m weak, because I am cursed! I hate this poisoned world! But most of all.
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